


Serenade

by Vizkopa



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizkopa/pseuds/Vizkopa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Bésame,” he whispered, golden gaze fixed on your quivering lips.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You could not refuse.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serenade

The sound of soft guitar stirred you from your sleep, dulcet notes drifting up the stairs and through the great halls of silent stone. The bed beside you was empty and, your interest piqued, you slipped from between the black satin sheets and into one of his white shirts. Shivering in the cold that had settled deep into the castle walls that night, you followed the sounds through the dark fortress, twisting this way and that through the maze of stone.

After a while, a voice joined the strings, deep and melodious, the words foreign to you and mysterious. All the same, they held an enchanting power over you, compelling you forward to seek out the source of their magic.

Your feet slapped loudly against the stones, unconsciously in time to the melody. It swelled as you turned a corner and you could see the room ahead bathed in moonlight, the double doors ajar and the white light spilling through into the hall along with the sweet acoustic chords.

Standing at the threshold, you peered inside and could barely suppress your gasp. Mihawk sat by the window, his bare back and chest kissed by pale light, long, pallid fingers plucking delicately at nylon strings. They froze as he noticed your presence, his sharp eyes never missing a thing.

“What’s wrong, _querida_? Did I wake you?”

You shook your head. “It got cold.”

The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. “Then what are you doing wandering around? You should be in bed.” He placed the guitar carefully aside and held out a hand. “ _Ven aquí_.”

You padded over to him and, taking you by surprise, he pulled you into his lap, holding you tight against his chest with your legs straddling his. You let out a contented sigh and snuggled closer into his warm embrace, breathing in the scent of his skin – cologne with slight undertones of leather and steel.

“I didn’t know you played,” you hummed, voice muffled into his neck. You felt him chuckle.

“I haven’t for a very long time.”

“What changed?”

“I found my muse.”

“Play a song for me?”

“I’d rather play _your_ strings tonight.”

You pulled back to look into his eyes, their fierce gaze softening as they took you in, skating over your lips and neck, noting the way his shirt clung to your frame. He exhaled.

“You really are beautiful,” he breathed, his knuckles grazing the skin of your cheek, a deep blush following in their wake. He grasped your chin in his fingers, lips hovering centimeters from your own. You felt your heart begin to pound, the blood practically singing in your veins, breath hitched in anticipation.

“ _Bésame_ ,” he whispered, golden gaze fixed on your quivering lips.

You could not refuse.

Desperate fingers entangled in his feathery hair, you pressed yourself flush against his chest, lips hungrily seeking his. He responded in kind, tongue darting out to taste yours, his hands exploring, fingers teasing. Swift digits unclasped the buttons of your shirt and he growled in pleasure as he caressed the bare skin beneath, his mouth leaving yours to seek out the yielding flesh of your neck.

You shuddered under his touch, closing your eyes and focusing only on the sensations of his teasing tongue and lips trailed lower to your heaving chest. Your flesh erupted in goose bumps as he slid the shirt from your shoulders and you shivered – as much from his touch as from the cold.

Mihawk pulled back for a moment to admire you, golden eyes clouded with lust. His gaze never leaving yours, his fingers traced the lines of your body downward, just barely skimming the surface of your skin. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a thumb against the tiny bundle of nerves that sent pleasure jolting up your spine and to the very tips of your fingers. His eyes were hypnotic and you could not look away despite your desire to throw your head back and moan his name.

Your breath was coming hard and fast and you knew you would be too if he kept up his ministrations. You gripped his hair, rolling your hips in time to each stroke. His chest rumbled with laughter and you felt his warm breath against your cheek.

“Always so impatient, _mi amor_.” He eased a finger slowly into your heat, watching your face closely. “Is this what you want?”

He was rewarded with a low moan and at the sound of your voice he could no longer contain his arousal. He let go a string of foreign words under his breath as he watched your back arch, your face flush with pleasure as the coil inside you wound tighter and tighter. Almost unconsciously, he reached down to unbutton his pants, hissing at the sudden touch of the frigid air.

You felt his fingers leave you but before you could protest he had pulled you down to his lap, his hardness pressed against your thigh. His breath was shallow, his eyes dark with lust. It seemed agony for him to wait.

“Are you ready, _querida_?”

The corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk. “Are you?”

The confused look he offered you soon melted away to bliss as you lowered yourself onto him, and then to impatience as you took just a second too long. Grasping your hips, he pulled you down to meet him and you moaned in unison.

Your hands clutching his shoulders for support, you began to move, hips rolling to meet his upward thrusts, fingernails digging tiny red crescents into his flesh as each stroke sent you higher.

The air around you grew heated as two bodies collided and separated again and again, skin shimmering with salt and sweat under the cold light of the moon. The swordsman’s eyes struggled to focus on you, on the way you moved over him, but he soon gave up the fight and let his head fall back onto the headrest, lids closed in bliss. You could see his lips forming unfamiliar words, muttering them breathlessly into the air.

You knew he was close when his grip on your hips tightened, the words frozen in his throat. Likewise, he could hear it in your breathing, see it in the flushed state of your cheeks and chest, feel it the slickness of your skin and your faltering pace. Reaching down between you, his fingers once again found your clit, massaging, stroking until you felt the coil inside snap, and your body flooded with heat.

“ _Joder_ , (Name)…” he growled as he released, chest heaving, arms moving to hold you close against him.

Once both your breathing had quietened, he pulled back. “Would you like to hear a song now, _querida_?”

You nodded sleepily and he chuckled.

“Perhaps we should get you back into bed first, hm?”

He bundled you up in his arms and carried you through the halls of stone, setting you carefully on the bed. Once you were comfortable, he crawled in beside you, pulling you to his chest, his fingers lightly brushing through your hair. A low hum began in his throat and you recognised it as the melody he had been playing before, and it followed you into your dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Querida - darling/sweetheart; a term of endearment  
> Ven aquí - come here  
> Bésame - kiss me  
> Mi amor - my love  
> Joder - fuck


End file.
